The Next Number
by Yami Roojii
Summary: He had hoped it wouldn’t come to this. Prayed that the order he dreaded would never be given; that he wouldn’t have to carry out the deed that haunted him every night.


Ok, soooo, this is something I wrote a while back. X3; The idea was, my sister would give me a random title, and I would write something to go with it. This is what came out. I'm not sure whether I like it or not, but my sister seemed to, so I thought I'd upload it. 3

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He had hoped it wouldn't come to this. Prayed that the order he dreaded would never be given; that he wouldn't have to carry out the deed that haunted him every night.

He knew it was all useless.

This day was inevitable, despite all the denial and pushing it to the back of his mind. He knew that, but it didn't make it any easier.

_He took his time as he walked up the garden path. He was in no hurry, trying to delay the moment as long as he could, even though it only made the pain worse. When he reached the door, he paused, hand stretched out to push it open. Whether it was locked or not did not matter. It would open for him. _

For years he'd been playing this moment over and over in his mind. All those wasted years. He realised now, too late, that he should have been making the most of the time he had, rather than worrying about when it would end. He was so scared of the pain of loss, knowing the way it had to turn out, that he pushed everyone away. It turned out to be pointless in the end. It still hurt. All he had achieved was making sure he had no happy memories to comfort him. He felt completely and utterly stupid, and extremely frustrated because he knew that, even with all the power he had at his disposal, there was nothing he could do.

Tonight, the only person he had ever loved would die, and he would collect his soul.

_Gritting his teeth, he pushed open the door and strode inside. The lights were out, which was an ominous sign, given the hour. It was dark, but not late enough for most people to be in bed. Moving silently through the house, he let his senses guide him. __Reaching the front room, he stopped and stared down at the limp body lying among the shattered remains of a glass coffee table. It was difficult to tell exactly what had killed him, and to be perfectly honest, he didn't care. Bending down, he reached out a shaking hand and hesitantly brushed back the course, blonde hair that was obscuring the face of the man lying before him. _

It hurt. More than anything he could remember, and he'd been around for a very, very long time. For the first time, he hated his job. He resented the fact that he had to turn off his feelings or risk going crazy; he despised his superiors for being so completely cold and making him and all the others the same way. He could have told him how he felt, could have been with him if he felt the same way. He could have been happy, if only for a short while. A human lifespan was not very long at all to someone in his line of work, after all. But no. His job came first, and the job allowed no emotional attachments. As much as he hated to admit it, he could see now why that was so.

_Letting the hair fall back across the lifeless face, he stood up and took a step back. Reaching into his pocket, he pulled out a small piece of parchment. On it were his orders for the night. _

_**June Shift**__**, Soul Number 47: Joseph Wheeler. **_

_**Location: Sector B, Area 5, 9/4. **_

_**Time: 21:38**_

_**Pending...**_

He just wanted to get this over with now. He wanted to go home and relax. Perhaps play a game of chess with his partner, the young apprentice shinigami that he passed off as his brother. He could feel the ice encasing his heart again in an attempt to blot out the pain. He couldn't help thinking it was for the best. Emotions would only bring him pain. No human could ever be more than a fleeting distraction ending in despair and loss to someone who was facing down an eternity. Yes, if this whole fiasco had taught him anything, it was that self imposed lonliness was far more barable than the lonliness of loss. After tonight, he would stop his contact with the ones who called themselves his friends. He'd find some way of pushing them away completely. He'd hand over control of his company to someone else and dispose of all his Duel Monsters cards. And then he would keep himself to himself, properly this time, as it should be. No more pretending he was human. No more pain. Simple.

_He pulled out a quill pen and, bending once again, brushed the tip of it against Joey's skin. Straightening, he used the same quill to mark the parchment with a large tick. __Instantly, a new word appeared on the page, as though written by an invisible hand. _

_**Resolved. **_


End file.
